


Our future is our history

by CherryBlossomLesbian



Series: Prompt Fills [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Depression, Existential Crisis, Gen, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-WandaVision, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, depersonalization & derealization, possible wandavision spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomLesbian/pseuds/CherryBlossomLesbian
Summary: A month after the snap was reversed, he was invited by Wilson to live back in the States in the Avengers Compound, as part of his and Rhodes' attempt to reunite and start the Avenger's Initiative up again.He was hesitant, but Shuri encouraged him to go back. It wasn't like she was ushering him away, because Bucky knew she really did like having him around, but it had been two years and she wanted him to try and integrate into regular society again.She said to at least give it a try. If he didn't like living in the States again, he could come back at any time.Which left him here, standing in a standard issue bedroom that he'd been told is his own now.OR: Bucky returns to the States fom Wakanda. He's still having trouble grasping who he is, and what he's meant to do. Wanda, Sam, and others help.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Wanda Maximoff
Series: Prompt Fills [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978546
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Our future is our history

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: bucky living with sam and Wanda and whoever else in avengers HQ. And he’s having a tough time after Steve left and is kinda depressed but he’s not rlly close with them yet so he kinda just suffers alone until they try to help him somehow. Thanks ❤️
> 
> Honestly I don't think I did this prompt justice. I scrapped a bunch of different versions of this fic, and this one ended up being the one I liked the best. I apologise if it isn't the best ♥️ 
> 
> If you're reading this in the future, this was written when the latest episode of Wandavision was episode 7. Wanda's future after the show is purely speculation and adapted to fit in this fic. 
> 
> Title is from Still the Same from Sugarland.
> 
> Warnings: derealization and depersonalization, depression, and existential crisis (I.E. wondering why they're alive, what purpose they serve in the world, ETC.)

A month after the snap was reversed, he was invited by Wilson to live back in the States in the Avengers Compound, as part of his and Rhodes' attempt to reunite and start the Avenger's Initiative up again. 

He was hesitant, but Shuri encouraged him to go back. It wasn't like she was ushering him away, because Bucky knew she really did like having him around, but it had been two years and she wanted him to try and integrate into regular society again. 

She said to at least give it a try. If he didn't like living in the States again, he could come back at any time. 

Which left him here, standing in a standard issue bedroom that he'd been told is his own now. 

It's bare. There's a closet on one wall, a bed with grey bedsheets and pillows on the other. The walls are a simple off-white color, nothing on them but a white shelf above the bed. There's an en-suite bathroom as well, with a small shower as well as a sink and toilet. 

Bucky sets his backpack on the edge of the bed. It holds everything he owns. 

He takes the journals out first. There's two that are completely filled with everything he's remembered so far, as well as one halfway finished. It's not much to show for 107 years, but at least it's something. 

He puts them under the bed. 

The only thing left in his backpack after that are his knives and a small, handcrafted teddy bear. 

The bear was given to him by one of the village kids in Wakanda. They were only about six. The teddy bear had been sewn specially to not have a left arm. 

It was given to him in his first months living there. He cried the entire night, clutching it in his fist as if it was a lifeline. 

He set the teddy bear on the bed, leaning on the pillows. He put his knives on the shelf.

He set his backpack on the floor, next to the closet. 

And that was everything he had. 

~~~~~~~

He didn't sleep at all the first night. 

In the morning, Wilson forced him out of his room to have breakfast with the rest of the team. 

The team, of course, just being Rhodey, Maximoff, Wilson, and himself. 

Lang, Van Dyne, and the spider kid also had rooms in the compound, but it wasn't their primary residence.

Very technically, Rhodey was the only one who lived there on his own free will. Both him and Wilson were still under government observation due to the Accords, and while they could leave, they had to document every move they made outside of the compound's grounds with their Accords Officers. 

Maximoff was a different story. 

Apparently, in the month since the snap was reversed, she took a town in New Jersey hostage and threatened the lives of countless government officials. He hadn't exactly been caught up on the entire situation, but he was told it wasn't completely Maximoff's fault. There had been other factors in play, although she wasn't absolved of all guilt. 

As such, she had to stay in the compound at all times and check in with her Accords Officer every day. 

It was a fun little circumstance they were stuck in. One was completely free, two were under surveillance, and the last was on house arrest. 

They sat in silence as they ate breakfast. After that, they all went back to their rooms. 

When Bucky returned to his room, his closet was full of clothes. Upon closer examination, he found everything in his size, from sweatshirts to jeans, pajamas and workout clothes, formal attire to a leather jacket and chest harnesses with spaces to hide guns and knives. 

Right. They expected him to be an Avenger. He would need a suit for that, after all. 

A full length mirror had also been added while he was gone. He quickly checked to make sure all his journals and knives were he put them, as well as his teddy bear safe on the bed. It looked like whoever had been in his room had just put the clothes away and moved the mirror in, and ignored everything else. 

He took the leather jacket off the hanger to inspect it. It was a deep navy blue, almost black, with only a sleeve on the right side. 

He took a black undershirt from the closet, as well as the harnesses and a pair of jeans and black boots. 

He charged into the full outfit. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. 

He looks at himself, and he just feels...wrong. 

Why is he here? Why does he deserve this? 

Why isn't he dead? 

Why was he brought back? What purpose does he serve in this world? 

And then his head is spinning and he can't hear anything but the blood rushing to his own head. His vision has black spots dancing it in, his hand is shaking. 

He falls onto the bed before he can pass out on the floor. 

His consciousness leaves his body for a bit. He's not sure how long, or how, but the next thing he knows he's lying on his bed with the teddy bear in his hold and he's no longer in the leather jacket and the rest of the getup. 

He's back in a sweatshirt and sweatpants now. His eyes feel swollen and sore, like he'd been crying for a long time. 

He sighs, about to drag himself out of bed and attempt to do something at least semi-useful with the rest of his day, when he hears a gentle humming coming from the room next to his. 

It's a quiet, light voice when the humming turns into a melody of lyrics. The voice sings in a language that is eeriely familiar, but he can't place any words or even recognize what it is. 

The voice continues singing, before Bucky notices the lyrics are looping, making it only about five verses in total. 

The voice sings the song at least six times before Bucky finds the courage to roll out of his bed and wade through the hall carefully, hoping to not make much noise to alert the voice that he's listening. 

He peeks into the next room, to find Maximoff slowly rocking in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, singing the gentle song with her eyes closed. 

Apparently he shares a wall with Maximoff. He knew her bedroom was close by, but he didn't know it was right next to his. 

Her eyes snap open just as Bucky is preparing to leave her alone to her singing. 

"Hello." She says softly, in a way that is almost creepy. She continues rocking. 

"Hi." His voice comes out small, uncertain, with a tinge of fear. He isn't afraid of the girl, but he was snooping around and watching her sing. If she wants to hurt him for that, he probably deserves it. 

"You can come in." She nods towards the door, and against his better judgement, Bucky steps out of the hallway and into the threshold. 

Her room is far more decorated than Bucky's. Her bedsheets are of a sunset, and she has a few stuffed animals situated on top of them. She has shelves and shelves filled with pictures and little trinkets. There's a guitar next to the rocking chair. 

"What...what was that, what you were singing?" He asks, and Wanda gives a sorrowful smile. 

"A Sokovian lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me and Pietro." Her accent comes out strong when she says the name. "I sung it to my boys, too." 

Bucky cocked his head in puzzlement, looking around the room again. This time, he spots two pacifiers sitting in front of a framed image of two empty bassinets. 

"Your... boys?" He doesn't want to push too far. He doesn't know how stable she is, how up she is for talking, but she doesn't seem to mind the questions. 

"Yes. They were never real, but I miss them." Small wisps of red intertwine through her fingers as she speaks. "Whenever I sing it, I remember then. And my brother." Her lips curved into a frown. "Even Vision." 

He's still heavily confused. He has no idea what happened to her in New Jersey, what she did, but it's something even she doesn't want to detail. She's already shared a large portion of her life with a stranger, by opening up to him about song. He's unsure why she decided to do it. He met her at the airport in Germany, and she was just as closed off as she seemed now. 

Maybe she knew he needed some advice. 

"Thank you. For letting me listen." 

'for letting me into your life' is left unsaid. 

"Of course." She stands up from her rocking chair with a labored sigh. "I need to make dinner. It was nice formally meeting you, Barnes." 

She's gone down the hall before Bucky can even process what she said. 

He lingers in her room for a bit, taking in the past few minutes. Eventually, he steps back out into the hall and retreats to his own room. 

He lays back on his bed, a melody, different than Wanda's, sounding in his head. 

He swallows thickly, then opens his mouth to sing along to the tune in playing in his mind. 

_Don't forget to wake me in the morning  
And bring me 'round a nice hot cup of tea  
Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant-Major  
Sergeant-Major, be a mother to me_

__And for a minute during his song, he feels like himself again._ _

__~~~~~~~_ _

__On his third day in the compound, a package arrives at his bedroom door._ _

__Well, actually, that's a lie. There's three packages- one an envelope, one a very small box, and the other a large, nearly flat package._ _

__He takes them into his room, sits on the bed, and opens then._ _

__The flat one has a corkboard on it, that easily attaches to the wall. The smaller package is filled with various thumbtacks. A few are plain, just silver discs on the end, while others have little stars or planets on the ends._ _

__They look like they're supposed to be for children. Regardless, he smiles at them._ _

__Finally, he opens the envelope. Inside is a letter that reads,_ _

_'Dear Barnes, You've been isolating yourself. Don't think I haven't noticed. Wanda said you talked to her. She didn't give me any details, but she didn't seem angry at you, so it must have gone okay. I know you're still having a tough time. Coming back, finding yourself, everything with Steve…I just thought I'd send you this stuff. Help decorate your room. Maybe make you feel more safe or help you heal. I think you should join us for breakfast or dinner again sometimes. I know the granola bars you stole from the kitchen aren't the best for overall nutrition -Sam Wilson'_

___When he reaches further into the envelope, he finds a stack of photographs._ _ _

__

__

__He holds his tears back as he looks through them all._ _

__There's the black and white of him and Steve, the war and even a few their parents snapped from their childhood._ _

__There's a single picture of him, ten, and a younger girl with twin braids smiling as he pushes her on the swing._ _

__"Becca." He whispers, quietly, feeling his heart feel both full and broken at the same time._ _

__There's only three photos in color. Two are large photographers of the stars and constellations, obviously just thrown into the mix of memories to add an extra splash of color, even if that color is just the dark blue of the nighttime sky._ _

__The last photo, in color, is of him in Wakanda._ _

__He's sitting in a field, petting a goat. Shuri had taken him after his first year there, as a kind of momento. He doesn't know how Sam got it, besides contacting Shuri directly and asking for it._ _

__He gets up and hangs the corkboard on the wall next to his bed. He takes the pictures, each and every one, including the star photos, and hangs them up with the space-themed thumbtacks._ _

__He does have to admit, it does make the room a bit brighter._ _

__And Sam was right._ _

__Seeing the pictures does make him feel safe. It's a reminder, however gentle, that he's still loved. The pictures of Steve, of him and the goat…_ _

__The fact that Sam even put it all together for him._ _

__Maybe he's slowly coming around to the idea of having a team. Maybe he's finally coming out his hole of self-hatred._ _

__He supposes there's only one way to find out._ _

__~~~~~~_ _

__He joins the team for breakfast the next morning._ _

__Lang stops by during. Makes smoothies to go along with Sam's homemade pancakes._ _

__It's nice. They are still largely silent while they eat, but it's not the same kind of silence like before. This time, it's a comfortable silence, like they all have an unspoken promise to each other._ _

__Bucky has no idea what that promise is, and he's not sure he ever will._ _

__"I think I'm gonna let myself go natural again." Wanda says suddenly, causing Bucky to pause mid-bite to turn to look at her._ _

__"Brown hair Wanda making a comeback?" Rhodey asks, and Wanda nods as she takes another forkful of pancake._ _

__"I dunno. Feels like a change I kinda need. I'm no longer on the run, which is why I dyed it orange in the first place." She shrugs. "I don't want to run anymore. That includes not running from my past."_ _

__Sam looks sad for a brief moment, before he masks it behind a smile. "She'd be proud of you for that, Wanda."_ _

__Wanda takes a deep breath, as if trying to quell her emotions. "I know."_ _

__Bucky doesn't ask who they mean by "she". Nobody else at the table asks, so he refrains as well._ _

__When they depart from breakfast to their next activities, Bucky heads back to his room and puts the leather jacket and the rest of his gear on again._ _

__He looks in the mirror, and despite the great revelations he feels he's made about himself in the past few days, it still feels wrong. His body feels wrong in the suit, his reflection feels like an imposter._ _

__He remembers what Wanda said at the breakfast table earlier, and looks towards the corkboard at the old photos of him, how he looked._ _

__Once the idea pops into his head, he can't talk himself out of it. He heads into the bathroom and digs around in the cabinet under the sink until he finds an electric razor._ _

__He plugs it in._ _

__He turns it on._ _

__Strands of long, brunette hair flutter helplessly to the bathroom floor as the razor cuts away._ _

__~~~~~~~_ _

__It looks quite lopsided by the time he's finished._ _

__He's not a professional hairdresser, and definitely never claimed to be, but it looks passable enough._ _

__It looks like it did in the war, although a little longer on the top. His hair fluffs out as the result of tiny waves and curls. He runs his fingers through it slowly, and keeps sweeping cut strands onto the floor. He'll clean it up later._ _

__Once he's satisfied with how it looks, and about 8/9 of his hair that was on his head just an hour ago is scattered on the floor now, he steps out of the bathroom and back in front of the full length mirror._ _

__This time, he recognizes himself._ _

__This time, looking at his own reflection, he feels reinvented, rather than the damaged husk that previously stared back at him._ _

__He's not the Winter Soldier. He's also not Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th, nor is he a Howling Commando._ _

__He's something else entirely. Perhaps a mixture of everything he's been in the past, although this time he has free control over his body._ _

__He's still not quite sure who he is. He's not sure what his purpose is, why he's still here, but he does know a few things._ _

__He likes the place he's in now. He likes the friends he has now._ _

__And most importantly, he likes the person he is, and the person he's becoming._ _

**Author's Note:**

> The song Wanda sings is the one she sang to the twins in the third episode of Wandavision.
> 
> The song Bucky sings is "Kiss me Goodnight Sergeant-Major", a WWII-era song. 
> 
> If you'd like to submit a prompt for me to write, check out the notes of my prompt fills series this fic is in!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cartersleia)
> 
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